A Dark View Of Life
by YamiKatie
Summary: Many people write angst fics about Ryou Bakura, but what about his yami? I've written this in an attempt to show Yami Bakura's view on life. Ryou has a hard life I admit, but Yami Bakura's isn't exactly fun and games. He's bitter, and who can blame him?


This is a one-shot angst fic. This means I will NOT be continuing it, so stop asking me!!! I'm not quite sure why I wrote it…maybe to show a different point of view, to try and guess how Yami Bakura looks upon the world, what he thinks of things.

I've also done a fic showing Yami Malik's view of life, so if you like this one then, hey, check it out.

I was re-reading this through yet again in a moment of spare time, and do you know what I found? A TYPING MISTAKE! NOOO! If I seem to be overreacting at all, then I'll remind you all that I am a total perfectionist (Youkomon can vouch for me) and it is little things like that which drive me up the wall. For anyone who's interested, the mistake was on line 4. For quite a while it said "I've also found weak things repulsive," and I've corrected this to "I've always found weak things repulsive." If you find any other mistakes, then please let me know.

Oh yeah, one person commented (quite rightly) that my knowledge of Yami Bakura's past is, well, not quite right. What really happened was that he killed the priest who was given the Ring (the priest's name was Mahado, in case anyone wanted to know) and wore the Ring for a while before he got trapped in it. I _think_ he was trapped in it at the same time Yami sealed his own soul in the Puzzle, to contain the rising dark powers within a dark gate or something… um, as you have probably gathered, my knowledge of what 'happened' in Ancient Egypt three thousand years ago isn't all that great. If anyone could tell me more, than, um, tell me more!

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A Dark View Of Life.

Everyone feels sorry for Ryou Bakura. After all, he has an evil spirit living inside his head. I've never really thought of myself as evil. Determined, perhaps. Ruthless, definitely. But not evil. Though I've been called the bad guy for so long I'm starting to believe it. He always seems so weak; I can hardly help pushing him around. I've always found weak things repulsive. He tries to be heroic, resisting my control. Pushing me back. Everyone thinks he's so brave. But he hates me. I know it. I can feel it. How do you treat someone who hates you so much nicely?

Worse still, it's always been so easy. His pathetic attempts to resist me just anger me further. I'm always in control. Wrapped around his mind, moving his body, making it serve my will. People compare me to a slave driver. I'm not. More like a parasite, living through another, using their strength. I want a body of my own so much; the desire sometimes consumes me. Over three thousand years ago, being sucked into the Ring. For thousands of years, just oblivion. Until I was reborn. In him.

It's so humiliating being forced to use this body. I, who am thousands of years old, trapped in the body of a seventeen-year old school boy… Reincarnation certainly has its disadvantages. I'd expected him to be like me in my old body – strong, powerful and confident. Instead he allows himself to be pushed around. Bullied. Abused. Sometimes I like to think – what if? What if I'd never tried to steal the Ring? What if I'd never had my soul trapped it, and had gone on to lead a "normal" life? But I'm a tomb robber, a thief. I always was and always will be. It's too late for regrets. But if only that fucking Pharaoh hadn't put the spell on the Ring in the first place…

It feels good to blame someone. The Pharaoh. My vessel. Anybody. Sometimes it all gets too much for me and I…fine, I admit it. I hurt the boy. My host. My yadonushi. Ryou. I can't help it. He never puts up a fight, knows that nothing he says or does will stop me, even makes up excuses for the thousands of cuts and bruises I've given him. Yesterday I stabbed him, sliding the knife into his pale, defenceless flesh. I watched as he tried desperately to stop the bleeding, then finally giving up and crumpling to the floor… His body lay there. Limp. Vulnerable. For a second I wondered if I'd gone too far, and actually killed him. But he recovered, he always does. This thin, pale boy has more willpower and desire to live than anyone I've ever known. Why does he continue to fight me? He knows what I do to people who annoy me.

Oh Ra, I've just remembered, I've erased his memory every time. I don't know why. To preserve his innocence perhaps. Although he's not as innocent as people think. Maybe I should leave him a memory, to show what I'm capable of.

He thinks he's innocent, a martyr, one of the "good guys." But even innocent people are easily manipulated. The things I say to him…it's funny, trying to convince him that everything I've done is his fault, just because he couldn't hold me back. And he nearly always believes me, eventually. What a gullible little ahou. Not that I would ever encourage him to fight my control, of course. I prefer him frightened. After all, the fear is good for him, reminding him of his place, that I am and always will be in control…

My host can't really see any way out of the situation, and neither can I. He would give anything to get rid of me, I know. Why doesn't he stop to consider _my_ feelings? Does he think I _like_ having to control him, having to live through another, my spirit state denying me even the right to die? I think he does. In his eyes I'm just a blood-obsessed sadist, trying to take over the world like a third-rate cartoon villain. Everyone thinks I don't care about him, and in a way I don't. I could kill him any time I wanted to, and we both know this. It's just that killing him wouldn't give me any pleasure, because he wouldn't be able to stop me at all.

Sometimes I feel like I want to kill him. I want to stab him, stab him until he breaks, and starts crying. I want to hear his screams of pain. But I know he won't. Even dying he would remain silent, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge my mastery, denying me the pleasure of knowing I have finally broken him.

And even if I did kill him, what would it achieve? I need his body. Weak and fragile though it may be, I _need_ it. It rankles to admit this, but I need him to survive. Does he know this? That without him, his soul, his body, his presence, I wouldn't survive? Maybe a part of him knows this. But most of the time he is content to stay in his state of self-denial, waiting for the moment when the Pharaoh or his pet will "set him free." His naivety, as always, is amusing. Does he actually think he will ever be free of me? I'll always be here. Biding my time, waiting until I can seize the Puzzle. I've waited three thousand years, I can wait a bit longer.

One day, I think my little yadonushi will snap under the pressure, become a babbling, broken soul, leaving me his body. Forever. But he hasn't yet. He somehow survives my tortuous presence, struggling through each day. And if a weak, miserable little boy like him can find the strength of mind to continue to move through life like that, then so can I.


End file.
